


because I care about you

by electronic_elevator



Series: the ones with little!Wilford [6]
Category: markiplier - Fandom
Genre: (fuck Derek Derekson), Anxiety, Crying, Diapers, Hurt/Comfort, Omorashi, Other, POV Second Person, Wetting, implied ABDL, implied shitty parenting, mostly plot, reader is Wilford's cg; this is the same tl as the others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25630747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electronic_elevator/pseuds/electronic_elevator
Summary: Eric has been somewhat successfully (but not comfortably) dealing with his wetting problems — primarily stemming from his anxiety — on his own since moving in with the egos. At least, he’d managed to hide the real scope of his issue from everyone else, but when you find him broken down after an accident it becomes clear that he would be helped by a little protection.
Series: the ones with little!Wilford [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742665
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32





	because I care about you

**Author's Note:**

> this poor boy needs a cg so bad. he would so benefit from one, imho, but in this particular timeline I can’t make it work out,,,

It hadn’t been a great day for Eric, particularly with regards to his anxiety and general mental health. And now, he had waited too long to go to the bathroom. He’d been hanging out with several of the other egos — his friends — in the hopes that it would make him feel better, but it hadn’t been working. Still, he was too anxious to explain how he was feeling and retreat — what if they got mad at him for interrupting? What if they finally got sick of his constant whining and stopped being his friend? Despite the fact that no one had really been talking to him directly, he felt trapped in the conversation until he wasn’t able to sit still anymore, at which time he forced himself to speak up and excuse himself. 

Since he was at home, he should really be okay. He knew where the bathrooms were, and he didn’t need to worry about if it was safe to use them or anything like that, so Eric hurried along, bouncing and squirming. 

There was one rather obvious thing for his anxiety to latch onto, however: namely, the risk of not making it, of wetting in some shared space and getting caught or ruining something. That, and Eric had a history of wetting when his anxiety was bad, and his anxiety had been oh so bad that day. It was the setup for a rather vicious self-reinforcing cycle. 

It was unsurprising but no less upsetting, then, when he leaked. He froze with a tearful whimper, knowing from past experience that he was done-for now. If he kept trying to make it to the bathroom, he’d track piss all over and make a bigger mess. He wouldn’t make it either way, but losing it here where anyone could walk in was terrifying. The other egos — well, at least the other egos in the manor — had never been cruel to him about his issues, but Eric couldn’t help feeling like they’d be mad at him, or worse. The thoughts were enough to make him cry, and he felt himself leak again, and again, and then he was just wetting himself. He covered his face with his hands, overwhelmed. He was standing on carpet, so the patter on the floor was muted, but he’d been holding so long that force of his stream against his pants made an audible hiss until the last few trickles, serving only to keep his humiliation hot against him for longer. 

Eric was outright sobbing, and didn’t calm down even after he was done. When he started to get light-headed, he realized he needed to sit down — even through the thoughts that reminded him that he was disgusting, that he’d get more of the floor dirty, that he didn’t deserve to sit, that cleaning up was more important than calming down—

He sat down past the edge of the carpet, holding his head in his hands and trying desperately to catch his breath. 

——

You heard crying from nearby. _Eric?_ you thought, immediately heading towards the sound. 

Eric sat a few feet away from a rather incriminating puddle in a room that smelled more than a little of piss. He was curled in on himself and still sobbing hard. As soon as he caught sight of you, he grew even more distraught and stammered out, “I peed my pants. I-I’m sor-ry, I know I’m disgusting, I’ll cl-cl-clean it up in a m-minute, please, I p-promise I just— I need a minute.”

“What?” you said. “No, no, you’re not disgusting. Eric, sweetheart, take all the time you need…” You started to move toward him, but when he only cringed further into a ball, you paused. The last thing you wanted to do was make Eric feel threatened, so you slowly sat down where you were, several feet away. “It’s okay, Eric, but I’m not going to leave you like this.” 

He peered at you through his hands. “Y-you don’t think I’m disgusting?” 

Of course you didn’t. It was just piss — and like, you changed Wilford’s diapers all the time. But you knew Eric wasn’t thinking rationally. “No, sweetheart, it’s just pee. And it happens to everyone sometimes.” 

“N-no it doesn’t… not— not this often. I’m supposed to be an, an adult,” he protested miserably.

“Eric. First off, you only ever need to be _you,_ and secondly, plenty of adults have issues like this,” you rebutted, gently but firmly. 

Eric didn’t respond. 

You’d come back to it. It was more important for Eric to calm down. “Take a deep breath. Take your time; just calm down. You’re okay.” 

To that, he tried to listen, shakily filling his lungs, then exhaling again and repeating the exercise.

“There. That’s good, Eric. Just breathe for a bit.” 

A few minutes passed, and Eric had nearly stopped crying when he asked in a small voice, “After I’m clean, can I have a hug?” 

“…You can have a hug _now,_ sweet boy,” you said, moving over to him. 

He sniffled, the tears that had never totally dried rolling down his cheeks again. “But— but I’m all wet,” he protested, but he didn’t move to stop you, so you sat beside him and held him — mostly a side hug, so you wouldn’t get wet, but still a hug. After a second, he reached for you, too, clinging. “My d-dad—“ Eric started, then shook his head, a straggling sob escaping him.

You felt a coal of pure rage settle in your stomach. “You don’t need to worry about _your dad,_ ” you said, failing to sound as gentle as you wanted. You rubbed his back. “You’re okay. You’re safe here and you’re okay.” But that meant this had been an issue for a long time — longer than Eric had been living with the egos — and he must’ve been dealing with it on his own the whole time. “You said this happens often… How can I help, honey? I want to help you.”

“I d-don’t want to be a b-b— I don’t w-want to make you do that.” 

You leaned back, sitting on your heels. “You’re not. I’m offering because I care about you. But if you can’t ask, then I’m going to decide. I’m going to clean up the floor so that you can go get clean. You must be getting uncomfortable. You go get out of your wet clothes, and I will arrange for some protection to be sent to you. It’s your choice to wear it, Eric, but if this is a recurring issue, wouldn’t it make you feel better?” 

Eric blinked at you with wide, shocked eyes. “I-I— you mean—“ 

You smoothed back his hair. “Eric, I want you to be comfortable. You don’t have to tell me what you plan to do.”

He was quiet, then said, “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. Now, are you ready to go get cleaned up?” 

Eric nodded, so you both got to your feet. “Go on. I’ll clean this up,” you repeated when Eric hesitated, casting a guilty, embarrassed look to the wet spot.

Eric wouldn’t meet your eyes but nodded, then hurried away, presumably to his room. 

——

You quickly cleaned up the mess on the floor. (It’s not like you didn’t know how — as a caregiver, you tried your best to keep Wilford from leaking or having unprotected accidents, but it had certainly happened before.) Speaking of your little, you were going to give some of his diapers to Eric. On short notice, this would be better than ordering some specifically for the younger boy. 

You headed up to Wilford’s room. Wilford preferred diapers with patterns and colors, so there was a barely-depleted case of a plain white kind hidden away in one of his closets. It seemed he was home, so you knocked at the door. 

“Come in!” he called. “Oh, Y/N! Lovely to see you! Would you like to see what I’m working on?” 

“Hello, Wilford! Sorry, I can’t actually stay. I’m here to steal something.” 

“Well, that’s not very nice,” he said, but it was a question, and he only grew more curious as you walked to the closet where his little supplies lived. 

“Someone needs these, and you’re not using them anyway,” you explained, pulling out the case. 

Wilford thought for a second. “Eric?” 

“ _Someone,_ ” you repeated, “who would probably prefer his privacy be kept.” 

“Eric,” Wilford repeated confidently, nodding to himself. “Those ones aren’t cute anyway; he can have them.” 

You laughed. “Good, ‘cause this is still a theft, and I wasn’t gonna ask. I gotta get back, but show me whatever it was later, okay?” 

Wilford nodded, turning his attention back to his project even before you left. 

——

Eric was still showering when you came by, so you just wrote a note instructing him to let you know if he wanted you to order more and left the diapers on his bed, being sure to close the door on your way out so the package wouldn’t be visible from the doorway. 

And then you didn’t think about it. While you really did want to help him, you didn’t want to pry into his personal issues or overstep his boundaries. And, your personal thoughts on whether or not Eric would benefit from a caregiver notwithstanding, you weren’t and couldn’t be that for him, so you just hoped he was doing alright. 

——

A couple of weeks later, Eric came up to you with a determined expression. “Y-Y/N,” he started, then some of his determination broke. Much less confidently, he continued, “C-could I speak to y-y— can we talk in the h-hallway?”

“Yeah, what’s up, Eric?” you asked, walking with him to an empty corridor where you could presumably talk undisturbed. 

Quietly, Eric started: “Can y-you— you said to ask if I, uh, um, you know the…” But, he was getting too worked up, and made a frustrated noise, screwing his eyes shut. 

“It’s alright, take your time,” you said, hoping to reassure him. 

It seemed to work somewhat, and Eric nodded, taking a deep breath. He tried again: “I-I’ve been using the… the diapers,” he explained, flushing bright red. “I, um, if it’s, um, okay… c-can you order me m-more?” He was staring down at his handkerchief by the end, shuffling nervously. 

“Of course, Eric. Was the size okay? They make different types, too, if there was something you didn’t like about them,” you replied. 

But, it was a little much for Eric to think about any of that. “N-no, just, the s-same’s okay, please.” 

“Alright, dear. Thank you for telling me; I hope they’re helping.” 

Eric nodded, shyly. “T-thank you… they, um, they are.”

“I’ll go do that now, so I’ll see you later.”

As you headed to get your computer, Eric gave you one last “thank you,” sounding relieved. You were so glad.


End file.
